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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25635757">a matter of circumstances</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/carloabay/pseuds/carloabay'>carloabay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:54:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25635757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/carloabay/pseuds/carloabay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Natasha Romanoff moments from Captain America: The Winter Soldier.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the price of bubblegum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'M SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED MY OTHER STUFF OKAY? I SAID IT I'M SORRY I'M THE WORST!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve Rogers obviously would rather she pay for her sins in coins, then. Natasha scowled at her own reflection in the vending machine glass. Her eyes were too red, her mascara the tiniest bit smudged; but she had more important things on her mind right now. No, wait a second. She wiped the edge of her eye with her finger to get away the black stuff, and blinked back the redness. Much better.</p><p>Hospitals were awful. They smelt like metal instruments and old, dead people and the ripping away of her innocence. Natasha fought not to scrub at her eyes. She fought not to think of Fury's cold body. She fought not to scream and sob, and instead she glared at the sweets behind the glass.</p><p>A vending machine? Really? Nick Fury's legacy and all S.H.I.E.L.D's dirty secrets on this drive, and Steve Rogers had stashed it in a goddamn hospital vending machine behind three stacks of expensive gum. Natasha wriggled in her pocket for loose change, and came up with a crumpled five dollar note and a bunch of coins. Man, and her nails were chipped. Bummer day.</p><p>"This better be worth seven bucks, Rogers," she grumbled, starting to feed the money into the machine slot. At least she'd get some bubblegum out of it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Inspired by <a>this Pin.</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the most important meal of the day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just watched the Winter Soldier for like the 73rd time, in case you're wondering what spurred me to write this when I should be updating Gryffindor's Girl, The Enlightenment, or The Widow lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He ate a <em>lot</em>. Bacon, eggs, beans, toast, fruit salad, croissants, sausages, bread rolls, yoghurt, oatmeal, you name it. It came out of Sam's fridge and it disappeared down Steve's throat. Sam was watching him was a slightly bewildered and panicked look on his face, and Natasha stirred her bowl of Froot Loops, unbothered. She'd seen worse things than Steve Rogers emptying someone of their month's groceries.</p><p>"Nat, eat up," Steve said, on his fourth pain au chocolat. By the look on his face, she suspected he hadn't had this much food ever before in his life. "You need your energy." Sam sipped orange juice and looked mildly impressed, or maybe amused, at Steve's mothering. Natasha spooned cereal into her mouth with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>"I got 'nuff energy al'eady, fanks," she mumbled, around a mouthful of milk. Steve frowned.</p><p>"And don't talk with your mouth full," he reprimanded. Natasha raised the other eyebrow and Sam spat out his juice with a snort.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay so I was writing this, thinking about Natasha fixing her make-up, and then I just inadvertently remembered Jake's line from B99 Ticking Clocks - 'You know how ladies be preppin'!' and now I'm crying 😂</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. liberating the EXO-7 Falcon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fort Meade was a cinch. Natasha barely even needed a  fake ID, and that was just an out-of-drawer card she made a while back. She went in as Noel Rothman, flashed the gate guard a cute smile and a low-cut shirt and a bit of skirt-covered ass, and the doors opened.</p><p>No one questioned her cover. No one double-checked her badge. She swung her hips back and forth, and no one noticed the heavy case she took out. </p><p>The gate guard asked for her ID again, unnecessarily,  and Natasha gave him the blinding grin and the lowered eyelashes, and he watched her chest as she pulled her badge from her white blouse pocket.</p><p>Very obviously noting her name and number, he nodded at the case, sunglasses halfway down his nose.</p><p>"Whatcha got there, love?"</p><p>"Official government business," she said with a little breathless giggle, and she saw his pupils dilate as she leant forwards.</p><p>"Well, fair enough. Hope to be seeing you, then." He gave her back her ID, and she left, making a mental note to maybe get him fired for negligence of duty. And ogling her ass. A top secret government weapon hung from the hand of a newly unemployed spy, but in all fairness, they were going to use it to take down a decades-old network of Nazis. Natasha got in the car, heaved the case into the back seat, and drove. God, she missed her Corvette. So much classier.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. a really expensive tie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"And why would I do that?" said Sitwell, buzzing into Natasha's comms through Sam's phone. She alighted her finger gently on the laser pointer, and focused it just so in the middle of Sitwell's tie.</p><p>"Because that tie looks really expensive. And I'd hate to mess it up."</p><p>The look of utterly pathetic terror on Sitwell's face almost made her smile. Natasha imagined Liho leaping for the laser pointer like she loved to do, and tearing up Sitwell's pudgy neck. Sitwell swallowed, and moved away, and Natasha sat back with a satisfied grin.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Jemma Simmons and her taste in men...?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sitwell squished himself into the window and glared at her for the whole journey, like he was afraid she might get it into her head to chop him up, or something. His tie was too nice and his cologne was offending her, so Natasha was actually quite glad for the space. But it was a bit insulting.</p><p>She consoled herself by reminding him of the time that Level Five bio-chemist Simmons called him fat and shot him, and he gave her such a poisonous look it became comical. She laughed, Sam raised his eyebrows in the rear-view mirror, and Steve, holding back a smile, told her to behave.</p><p>"It'll be a bit less funny when you're dead," Sitwell snapped back with a suicidal, triumphant gleam in his eye. "Hail Hy-" Natasha had a knife to his throat before he could finish his sentence.</p><p>"I wouldn't," she warned. Steve's eyes, in the reflection of the windscreen, were stony. Sitwell nodded, his mouth stretched in terror. Natasha smiled. "Good boy."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lol the 'I like men who are about my height but heavier than me,' is one of my favourite lines in AoS, and it's even funnier when it's 20 yr old Jemma trying to flirt her way out of trouble</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. the best English accent in the book</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"God," Natasha said, eyeing the pearls with trepidation. "I appreciate the cut of the jacket, but do I <em>have</em> to go all in for the grandma look?"</p><p>"You're going to bust a nut when you look in the mirror with the mask on, then," Maria said, with a little grin. Natasha pulled an exaggerated face and gave the necklace to Maria.</p><p>"Go on," she said. "Age me."</p><p>"With pleasure." Maria took the pearls and brushed Natasha's hair gently out of the way, then laid them around her neck and clasped the necklace securely at the back. She didn't even let her fingers touch Natasha's neck, and for a second Natasha admired her restraint, but then Maria looped her arms around Natasha's waist and pressed a kiss to the edge of her jaw. "How's your English accent?" she asked. The fading touch of her lips buzzed on Natasha's skin.</p><p>"Could I have some tea, darling?" Natasha said, mockingly posh, and Maria laughed like bells, a beautiful sound, right into Natasha's ear. They stayed there for a second, pressed against each other, and then Maria dipped her head to rest her forehead on Natasha's shoulder, and sighed.</p><p>"Don't you dare get killed," she said, muffled by Natasha's jacket.</p><p>"I couldn't leave you, could I?" Natasha replied, and she linked their fingers together and tried to ignore the dread in her stomach. "Don't you get killed, either. Alright?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i SIMP for Natasha Romanoff</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. places to be</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The reporters followed her to her car, chattering like excited parrots, and Natasha climbed in, shut the door on them and sank into the leather, revelling in the feel and smell and dark comfort of her beloved car. </p><p>She looked out of the tinted window, where a camera was flashing away. Maybe mouthing off at decorated generals and storming out hadn't been the best way to play things, but what the hell. She was the Black Widow, and she didn't belong to anyone anymore.</p><p>She revved the engine a few times to get the reporters and cameramen to clear off, and then she shifted into drive, the beautiful roar of the car cradling around her.</p><p>To the graveyard, for a last goodbye. To Maria, for a kiss and a promise of return. And then to Russia, for her parents and her grey, bloodied past.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok I'm done. Hope you liked it! Comments? 🥺</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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